


Needle and Thread

by poor_sickies



Series: Bad Things Happen [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, First Aid, Gen, Injury, Stitches, concussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 15:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16121276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_sickies/pseuds/poor_sickies
Summary: Pidge isn’t good at stitching. Too bad she has no choice now. She needs to help Keith.Prompt: stitchesFind me on Tumblr at @poor-sickies





	Needle and Thread

“You have to do it.”

Keith’s voice isn’t usually this quiet in such stressful situations. This time, though, Pidge is willing to let it pass as the mix of dread and exhaustion. It doesn’t make her feel any less scared.

The others should be coming. Any minute now, but then again, not exactly. They are in their own missions, split up, galaxies away, and the only people that maybe aren’t so busy right now are Allura and Coran. But they’re still far, and the comms aren’t powerful enough to call for help at such a distance. Pidge sent a distress signal five minutes ago, though, but she doesn’t know how long it will take,

Things had been going pretty well until Keith was thrown against a table.

With no helmet.

At that point, the info from that Galra base was still loading onto her gauntlet, but she quickly disconnected when she saw Keith half slumped on the floor, unconscious and bleeding.

It wasn’t too hard for her to take down the three Galras that had hurt Keith, despite knowing that seeing her friend like that was motivation enough. She checked the hallway, making sure they could hide safely until help came, and then ran to Keith, after sending a quick distress signal to the Castle.

Pidge had been very much relieved when she figured out his awkward position on the floor was only caused by the way he fell. She dragged him to a corner, laying him on his back, to better assess the damage. Nothing seemed broken, although his knees would probably bruise later. The only concern, the big concern, was the gash seeping blood on his forehead like a broken faucet.

When they go on missions like this, that take some days, they all carry with them a small backpack, integrated on their jetpacks. It has some rations, water, and a small first aid kit. So Pidge thinks of bandaging Keith’s head, to stop the blood from coming out and to protect the skin.

But then she presses a cloth against the wound, clearing it from blood, and sees bone.

“Fuck. Fuck. Oh no, oh nonono-”

She takes deep breaths, and watches as more blood keeps coming out. Yeah, this is serious. She doubts that any amount of bandages at all keeps the blood from coming out.

And Pidge isn’t all that good with blood either. Not like Hunk, who despite his best efforts would probably be throwing up at this stage, but she has to at least admit, it’s getting hard not to puke her last meal right now. Both from the blood and the panic. She keeps pressing the bandages to the wound - it’s better than doing nothing.

Somehow, it gets worse when Keith starts waking up.

It’s… strange to see Keith with his guard down like this. Pidge is no stranger to seeing him injured, occasionally returning beat up from a mission, or hurting himself in the training room - accidents happen, and with all the hits they take from the Galra, even the cryopods can’t be operational all the time. It wouldn’t be the first time she sees Keith with bandages around his torso, or limping around the castle in crutches when the cryopods are down. However, it’s the first time he doesn’t make an effort to hide his pain.

Probably because he’s too out of it.

He scrunches up his eyes, letting out a little whimper, as he wakes up. His right hand reaches for his head, and Pidge isn’t quick enough to stop it from reaching the wound. She can’t help but wince in sympathy when he instantly recoils, shocked both by the pain and the warm liquid blood in his hand.

“Ahh - Ow… - shit…”

This time Pidge manages to grab both of his hands before he does more damage to himself. “Hey - don’t touch it. You’re bleeding a lot.”

Keith seems oddly calm about this once he understands what’s going on. It makes Pidge wonder just how messed up he came back from all those Marmora missions. Is he used to this? To being thrown around, broken, patched up back again like a rag doll, rinse and repeat? The thought scares her.

“You okay?” Keith croaks out, letting her guide his hands away from his face, despite the pain. He seems to focus on that instead, closing his eyes and squeezing Pidge’s fingers back.

Pidge almost wants to laugh at the question. “I’m not the one who’s bleeding on the floor.”

Keith rolls his eyes, dismissively. “Got the intel?”

Oh no.

She had disconnected the gauntlet when they hurt him. She was probably lacking at least one third of it.

And Keith might not be too great at reading people, but he doesn’t miss the perplex look on her face.

“Go get it,” he says, and reaches with his hand for the bandages, applying pressure to the wound, “I’ll be fine.”

He seems conscious enough. And the info panel is right there… Pidge checks the hall one more time, before getting up to get the rest of the data.

“It shouldn’t take more than a minute,” she says, “just don’t move, and keep pressing.”

The blood soaks through the bandages in thirty seconds.

So when Pidge finally pulls out her gauntlet, Keith is fidgeting with the cloth, moving it around his head to stop the blood from dripping.

“Fuck!” Pidge gasps, as she runs to Keith’s side.

She takes another cloth from the first aid kit and presses it against the wound again, earning a low pained groan from Keith.

“It’s not stopping…” She trails off, weighing her options.

If the others come quick, she can just bandage him and it should hold up enough until they’re back at the castle.

But Pidge can’t know when they’re coming. For all they’re concerned, Keith and her can be waiting out here for days.

“Pidge.”

Keith calls for her quietly, eyes closed, bloody hands still holding the rag.

“Y-Yeah?…”

He swallows with a wince. He’s probably slightly concussed too. Pidge is pretty sure he wouldn’t be steady on his feet even if he tried to.

Thankfully, Keith does usually manage to keep himself clear headed.

“There’s needle and thread. In the first aid,” he says, “you know what to do.”

Pidge knows. They all had a very much complete crash course in first aid at the Garrison. No one makes it through the military without knowing how to stitch. She hadn’t done particularly well at the test, but they all passed as long as the wound was closed. Of course, at the test they were stitching something akin to a rag doll. This is an entirely different situation.

“Keith, I-I can’t-”

“You can. It’s gonna be okay,” he assures her, clumsily reaching for the little compartment in her first aid box. Surely enough, there’s a curved needle and a roll of black thread, as well as band aids and disinfectant.

“What if I just…try to press the cloth against it…? Until the others arrive…- I…”

Keith sighs. “We both know that isn’t working.”

Pidge keeps fidgeting, her fingers back and forth in the rag on Keith’s forehead. She knows he’s right. But stitching up his head feels too real, too dangerous. What if she messes up? There’s no cryopods, no one around her to ask for help. There aren’t even many medical supplies.

But Keith is her teammate, and practically a brother to her. She can’t risk his life because she’s scared. Pidge will never forgive herself if she doesn’t do anything and Keith…

“You have to do it.”

Pidge takes a deep breath.

“Okay.”

With a trembling hand, she reaches for the plastic gloves and puts them on hastily, after removing the black ones from her armor. She takes the disinfectant and some cotton, and dips the needle in it.

After some maneuvering, Keith is laying his head on her thighs. Hesitantly, she removes the cloth, and immediately more blood flows out. With the disinfectant, she dabs at his forehead the best she can. Keith hisses at the sting. She tries to ignore it.

With his face like this, eyes closed and breathing steady, Pidge notices how oddly delicate Keith’s features are. There are some light freckles on his nose she had never noticed before, and his pale skin makes an interesting contrast against his black eyebrows. Somehow, it feels wrong what she’s about to do. She’s seen the scar on his shoulder, but his face is soft and smooth and she’s about to mar it.

Holding the needle with one hand and his bangs with the other, she joins the two edges of skin together and pierces.

Keith squirms under her, and she’s apologizing profusely, holding him down, but not continuing.

“Just…keep going-”, he says between clenched teeth. His eyes close tighter as he’s bracing for the pain, creating little folds above his eyebrows. Pidge pierces the skin again, effectively joining an edge of the cut.

Keith almost screams this time, hands squeezing around nothing.

“K-Keith, I can’t - you have to open your eyes…I can’t stitch if your forehead is tense,” she says, almost feeling like crying herself.

Keith blinks and opens his eyes, tears running freely down his cheeks.

“Just try to relax,” she whispers, concentrating on her task. She has to make this go as quick as possible. For Keith’s sake, and for her own.

When the needle goes in again, Keith’s breath hitches, and Pidge tries her best not to look into his eyes.

“Please hurry up,” he whimpers at one point, eyes closed again because he doesn’t dare glancing above at Pidge’s hand and the needle.

“Almost done,” she whispers back. At least her hand was shaking a bit less.

It takes seventeen stitches, and they would have been less if Pidge was any good at stitching. They’re crooked and mismatched, making a jagged line from his hairline down his forehead, stopping just above the left eyebrow.

Keith breaths quickly, face shiny with sweat and blood, tear tracks on his cheeks.

His head hurts and he sees the room spinning, probably both from the slight concussion he’s pretty sure he has and the adrenaline drop after having stitches without anesthetic. His forehead feels tighter, and if he can feel the pull of the stitches if he frowns.

Pidge is disinfecting the area around the stitches, before taping a piece of gauze over it. She’s nervous too, her hands shaking as she puts away the first aid kit, but still holding his hair back. She probably isn’t doing it consciously, simply forgetting to take her hand away, as if the gesture was still necessary, but it feels comforting nonetheless.

“Sorry,” she says, giving a soft squeeze to his shoulder, “I’m not very good at this…it’s probably gonna leave a scar.”

Keith shrugs. “That doesn’t bother me.”

“Does it hurt?” Pidge asks, her voice wavering like a wounded bird. She takes her water pouch and offers some to Keith.

“The stitches are uncomfortable,” he says, after gulping down some water, “but they always are.”

“You had stitches before?”

Pidge shifts back a little, still holding Keith’s hair back, letting her fingers run through it. She’s glad they can at least make conversation - the last thing she wants is for him to fall asleep, and talking is an easier way to keep him awake.

Keith chuckles at the question. “Yeah. Never needed them in my head before though, but I worried my dad to death a couple of times.”

Pidge chest tightens at the way his voice shakes when he mentions his father. He’d mentioned his dad once to her, after a particularly frustrating day of reading code and prison info from a Galra base and ending up right where she’d started. Keith isn’t so good with pep talks and casual conversation, but he’s a great listener.

“With the way you worry us sometimes, I can believe it,” she chuckles with a teary laugh. “You lived in the desert, right?”

“Yeah. It was quiet. I liked it.”

“I don’t like the outdoors,” Pidge keeps going, “I mean, Olkarion is different. The Olkari are great engineers and can do incredible stuff with nature, so even though I’m not much of an outside person, I like going there. But on Earth? I liked my room. And the software lab at the Garrison. I like the quiet, but I think it’s different from you.”

“It’s a different kind of quiet, I guess,” Keith says. He seems to be having trouble in staying awake now, eyes droopy and half closed.

Pidge doesn’t give up.

“What do you like about the desert?” She asks, tapping his shoulder.

“Hm,” he considers. “The scenery. The stillness. I like the nights the best. It’s never too hot… and it’s far enough from the city, so you can see the stars.”

“That sounds nice,” Pidge answers, and she’s not just saying it. It’s not too hard to understand Keith when you talk to him a little. It makes her want to go back to Earth and visit the desert someday.

She’s about to say something else, about a nice cave she had liked, when her comms go online.

“Pidge?”

Allura’s voice sounds from her helmet, urgent and clear.

“Allura! Guys! We need an extraction! Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Pidge, we’re on our way,” Allura answers, “how is Keith?”

“He’s okay,” she answers, glancing down at him. He’s still awake and lucid, eyes open a little more as he listens to their conversation. “He needs a cryopod, though.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can. It shouldn’t take long.”

Pidge sighs in relief, while Allura cuts the comm. And now they wait.

“Hey, Keith… stay awake.”

“What makes you think I’m falling asleep?” He frowns.

“You’re hurt and you have a concussion, and your eyes are closed,” she deadpans, “just making sure.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that bad,” he sighs, “besides, if they’re coming I don’t have to stay awake anymore, I can just go to a cryopod.”

“I don’t wanna be alone.”

Keith is looking at her upside down, and he can barely see her face. But he’s pretty sure she looks away. He reaches for her hand.

“It’s okay. We’ll be okay. I promise.”


End file.
